This Is My Story
Sometimes, I feel like I have no story to share, no testimony to tell.
I wasn't born into a Christian family, neither did I grow up in church. When I was 7, I was enrolled into a Methodist primary school near my grandparents' home. As all missionary schools do, we had chapel, morning devotions, and little preaching sessions by staff. I'm not sure when exactly it was; perhaps it was my first ever assembly in school when they shared Jesus Christ.
I was but a 7-year-old, someone who didn't understand life or death, love or hate, much less death by crucifixion and Christ's love for us. Yet, when they told me that Jesus loved me, that he died for me, there was this unexplained faith in me that just went "Yes, I believe that You are real and You died for me."
And it seems like that was just how my journey started. As a 7-year-old who didn't understand the concept of church, sermons, pastors, cell, etc., just bursting out in childlike faith and believing wholeheartedly in a King who did not boss, but lead.
Ever since then, I have been telling people that I was Christian. Let the world know who I followed. All throughout primary school, I took all the before and after school prayers seriously, told myself to pray at night before I slept too. In secondary school, continued on where I was - just happily believing by myself but not going to church, reaching out, or praying for others other than myself.
It took going to junior college that a turning point was made in my story. As mentioned, I went around telling people that I was Christian: wrote some Bible verses here and there in social media biographies, told it to friends, etc. So I was invited to join my school's prayer point by an orientation group mate. I remember it being close to Good Friday. We were broken up into small groups and were told to talk about the Good Friday activities that our churches and cells had planned. I remember being really fearful, as I have always been when someone asked me about church and I had to tell them that I didn't attend any.
When I was asked what my church did, something in me made me tell the two other girls I was with that I actually didn't go to church. Rather than my usual fabricated stories about what my "church" would do or what I did in "church" (passing remarks I said to acquaintances I would likely never meet again), I actually just spoke up and said that I actually didn't have a church to follow; told them my story up to that point.
I was then invited to cell and service where I met a lovely bunch of people who made me feel so welcome and not awkward. That was how I started attending service and cell regularly. Over time, there have been ups and downs, times where church-going seemed more like something I had to do rather than something I wanted to do. Yet one thing has never changed - Christ in my life. I had never noticed the fact that I had never doubted Christ in my life, until a conversation with a friend whilst waiting for my parents to send us home. And ever since then, I'm forever left wondering and trying to figure out just how did it happen? What reason, what basis of judgement did I have to have never doubted God? It's just something that I don't understand and perhaps the only explanation is truly God's love and power in my life.
Stories and testimonies often illustrate an intense time of suffering, sadness and despair before God shone into their lives and brought them out of the pit they were wallowing in. They all seemed to follow the standard format of a novel: introduction, rising action, climax, falling action and resolution.
For many, it was as if they were in a dark room and suddenly God's light shone through and they were given hope. But for me, it is as if I had always been in a bright room and God's light just appeared at the side, telling me that He was there. That made me feel like I had nothing to say, nothing strong enough to convince people of the reality of my God.
But our God is a creative God. He's not limited to the standard format of writing a story and maybe my story's just different. Not wrong, just different. But it still tells of God's love and goodness all the same.
This is my story.
Hope™
I wasn't born into a Christian family, neither did I grow up in church. When I was 7, I was enrolled into a Methodist primary school near my grandparents' home. As all missionary schools do, we had chapel, morning devotions, and little preaching sessions by staff. I'm not sure when exactly it was; perhaps it was my first ever assembly in school when they shared Jesus Christ.
I was but a 7-year-old, someone who didn't understand life or death, love or hate, much less death by crucifixion and Christ's love for us. Yet, when they told me that Jesus loved me, that he died for me, there was this unexplained faith in me that just went "Yes, I believe that You are real and You died for me."
And it seems like that was just how my journey started. As a 7-year-old who didn't understand the concept of church, sermons, pastors, cell, etc., just bursting out in childlike faith and believing wholeheartedly in a King who did not boss, but lead.
Ever since then, I have been telling people that I was Christian. Let the world know who I followed. All throughout primary school, I took all the before and after school prayers seriously, told myself to pray at night before I slept too. In secondary school, continued on where I was - just happily believing by myself but not going to church, reaching out, or praying for others other than myself.
It took going to junior college that a turning point was made in my story. As mentioned, I went around telling people that I was Christian: wrote some Bible verses here and there in social media biographies, told it to friends, etc. So I was invited to join my school's prayer point by an orientation group mate. I remember it being close to Good Friday. We were broken up into small groups and were told to talk about the Good Friday activities that our churches and cells had planned. I remember being really fearful, as I have always been when someone asked me about church and I had to tell them that I didn't attend any.
When I was asked what my church did, something in me made me tell the two other girls I was with that I actually didn't go to church. Rather than my usual fabricated stories about what my "church" would do or what I did in "church" (passing remarks I said to acquaintances I would likely never meet again), I actually just spoke up and said that I actually didn't have a church to follow; told them my story up to that point.
I was then invited to cell and service where I met a lovely bunch of people who made me feel so welcome and not awkward. That was how I started attending service and cell regularly. Over time, there have been ups and downs, times where church-going seemed more like something I had to do rather than something I wanted to do. Yet one thing has never changed - Christ in my life. I had never noticed the fact that I had never doubted Christ in my life, until a conversation with a friend whilst waiting for my parents to send us home. And ever since then, I'm forever left wondering and trying to figure out just how did it happen? What reason, what basis of judgement did I have to have never doubted God? It's just something that I don't understand and perhaps the only explanation is truly God's love and power in my life.
Stories and testimonies often illustrate an intense time of suffering, sadness and despair before God shone into their lives and brought them out of the pit they were wallowing in. They all seemed to follow the standard format of a novel: introduction, rising action, climax, falling action and resolution.
For many, it was as if they were in a dark room and suddenly God's light shone through and they were given hope. But for me, it is as if I had always been in a bright room and God's light just appeared at the side, telling me that He was there. That made me feel like I had nothing to say, nothing strong enough to convince people of the reality of my God.
But our God is a creative God. He's not limited to the standard format of writing a story and maybe my story's just different. Not wrong, just different. But it still tells of God's love and goodness all the same.
This is my story.
Hope™
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